Mr & Mrs Smith
by Team Damon
Summary: Post TDKR, a bit AU, oneshot: Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, now John and Jane Smith, live the quiet life on the outside but on the inside, they are anything but your average couple. The problem is, they're not only lying to the world, but also to each other. Based on the movie of the same name


**A/N: now for something a little different :) thank you to midnightwings96 for reading and helping me figure out the somewhat tricky plot here. Let me know what you guys think! :D **

For Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, early retirement turned out to be the complete and utter opposite of what they'd anticipated. Old habits, as it happens, die hard, and within a few years of running off to Europe together, they found themselves back in the states and living under blessedly generic new names.

Bruce, now John Smith, convinced Selina - now Jane Smith - to follow him to Washington, D.C., where he'd received a job offer with a private security firm. Within a few months of living there, she got a similarly straight-laced job at another private firm, and their new lives fell into a boring and predictable rhythm of 9 to 5 days and quiet nights in.

The truth, however, was far different from what it appeared to be. The couple, who were merely posing a married one but were not actually legally bound to one another, harbored secrets that slowly began to erode their relationship and leave it unrecognizable.

The "private security firm" that Bruce had taken a job with was actually the Central Intelligence Agency, and the firm that had hired Selina was actually a group of assassins whose mission it was to rid the world of monsters one devil at a time. Bruce didn't say a word to Selina about his recruitment because he didn't want her to be dismayed at his lack of ability to live a normal, happy life, or to worry about him. In turn, she didn't tell him about her new gig because she knew her methods went against everything he'd ever stood for. There was also the issue of being utterly forbidden by their employers to tell another soul of their involvements.

It was only a matter of time before their secrets ate away at them and left them drifting apart, falling into monotony and self-loathing that resulted in them separating - a "trial" separation, but a separation nonetheless, leaving them with nothing but secrets to keep them company as they lived apart for the first time in years.

It was during this separation that the president of Zimbabwe made a visit to the U.S. capital. It was Bruce's job to thwart a possible assassination attempt that the agency had been tipped off to, and help maintain security at a state dinner being held in the president's honor. It was Selina's job to make sure the dictator didn't make it out of the dinner alive.

* * *

"Smith. Be reasonable."

Bruce shook his head as he refused to take the gun being offered to him by his boss, who had also been his recruiter. "Don't like guns."

"I know that," the man, who Bruce only knew as T, replied. T was only a few years older than Bruce, dark hair save for a few grays, tall and thin, unfailingly blunt. "There's lots of things I don't like either. Like my wife's meatloaf. Or the fact that I'm an expert in how to torture a man until he starts singing Barbie Girl and gives up all his secrets. But you know what I do? I suck it up. I eat my wife's meatloaf even though I'd rather use it as a doorstopper - an effective one, mind you - and I waterboard the shit out of whoever I need to. You know why? Because its necessary. Like this gun."

Bruce looked at T in amusement and continued to tie the bow tie around his neck. They were standing in one of the bathrooms at the White House, getting their tuxes on at the last minute after spending the day preparing for the dinner that was starting in less than an hour. "And why is that gun necessary, in your opinion?"

"Because this isn't playtime, Smith. This is the damn CIA, and we're dealing with a homicidal dictator and a gang of assassins out to put his head on a plate. I barely even want to stop them at all, because this guy's a class-A psychopath, but that's life, and for whatever reason we're trying to use diplomacy on this piece of shit. And you're going to die one of these days if you refuse to protect yourself."

"I can protect myself just fine without a gun, T, but thanks for your concern."

T rolled his eyes and said, "All right, look, I get that you're not into shooting people. Fine, that's great, I admire you. But what if you get in a car chase and need to shoot someone's tires out? Guns aren't just for shooting _people_, Smith. Sometimes you need to shoot _things_. If I'd known you'd refuse to use guns or kill people when I recruited you then -"

"Then what?" Bruce asked, pulling his suit jacket on and glancing at the man. "You wouldn't have bothered to bring me on?"

"I would have thought long and hard about it," T replied. "Someone with a motto of 'no guns, no killing' isn't exactly conventional operative material. We like guns and we like killing. In general."

"And yet," Bruce said, smoothing down his dark hair, "my rule doesn't seem to be holding me back, does it?"

"That's only because you're a ninja," T replied. "And I mean that literally. I don't know where you got your training and frankly I don't want to, but it's the only reason you weren't blown to bits down in Colombia."

Bruce grinned and turned to T, replying, "Which is why guns aren't necessary for me."

"Whatever. You can only get lucky so many times, Smith. Luck runs out eventually."

Bruce shrugged, pulling out his phone from his pocket and heading for the door. "I make my own luck."

* * *

A large, calloused hand came to rest on Selina's silk-covered leg, just above her knee, as she sipped on a flute of champagne in the back of a limo. Her red lips stretched into a smile as she looked up at her date, a recently divorced Senator from Delaware, and the grin remained intact as she gently pushed his hand away. "Save it for later, Senator."

"I'm not known for my patience, Jane," the man replied ruefully. He was in his fifties and didn't look awful for his age, but he was a notorious and unlikeable womanizer. His last marriage had ended last month when his 29 year old wife caught him canoodling with 22 year old twins. It was good news for Selina, however - being his date to the state dinner was an easy in.

"Well," Selina replied in her best sultry voice, "why don't you show me later what you _are_ known for?"

He chuckled and took a sip of his own champagne. "That's what I like to hear."

She smiled with him, though inside she was rolling her eyes and gagging, then grabbed her clutch when she heard her phone ring from inside. She opened the clutch and then pulled her phone out, pursing her lips when she saw an incoming call from John Smith.

She sent the call to voicemail and then quickly typed up a text to send him. _Working_. _Can't talk_.

"So, tell me a little bit about yourself, Jane Smith," the Senator smiled, leaning a bit closer to her.

"What would you like to know?" she purred. Her phone vibrated with an incoming text. _So am I. I miss you. Wondered if you'd want to get lunch sometime next week._

The Senator glanced at her phone with a look of slight irritation, like he was offended that he didn't have her full attention. "Well, where are you from?"

"Gotham," she replied, unsure of how to reply to Bruce's message. Every contact between them was painful and strained. She missed him desperately but couldn't stand to lie to him any longer. It was the most exhausting and draining thing she'd ever done, but the alternative was no better in her mind.

"Gotham? Really?"

"Really," she replied, typing, _Maybe. Depends on my schedule._

"Who knew something so gorgeous could come from a cesspool like Gotham?"

Selina looked up from her phone and replied, "Beautiful things come out of dark places all the time."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

Her phone vibrated again. _Fair enough. Have you given counseling any more thought?_

She sighed and placed her phone back inside her clutch and closed it. She couldn't think about this now. She had to stay focused.

As she set her clutch aside, the Senator's hand came down on her leg again. She reminded herself that she needed to use him to get into the White House, restraining her urge to grab a tranquilizer dart stashed in a clever compartment in her bra and stick it into his neck.

Luckily for her, time was on her side. At that moment, the limo pulled up to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

* * *

Bruce sighed and put his phone away, not surprised that she'd ignored his last question. She'd been side-stepping his efforts to get them into counseling for months now. Sometimes he wondered if she really wanted to bother working on their relationship at all, or if by "trial separation" she'd meant a permanent one.

As sick as he'd gotten of lying to her and trying to hide various injuries he would get from different missions he'd undertaken, he'd never wanted them to take a break. Despite all of the lying and distractions and fighting, he'd never lost hope for their relationship. Not even when they became the type of couple to peck each other on the lips and say goodnight rather than stay up testing how many neighbors they could wake up with their sounds of passion. That part of their relationship had been the last one to go, and when it did, they both realized how deep into trouble they were.

He didn't think it was a question of passion, but instead his guilt and inner conflict keeping him from connecting with Selina on almost any level at all. Honesty had always been the glue that held them together, their mutual accepting of who the other was, flaws and scars and all. Without it, this was where they'd ended up.

But now was not the time to dwell on his flailing personal life. The dinner was starting in just a moment, and he had an assassin to find and thwart.

* * *

Selina could feel nearly all eyes on her as she walked into the White House on the Senator's arm, her curled hair bouncing with every high heeled step she took. Her dress was made entirely of rich black silk and it hugged her in all the right places, a halter-style neckline with a skirt that had a high slit that displayed her right leg with each step.

The Senator showed her off like the exquisite arm candy that she was, and she played her part well, all while keeping her eye on every detail of her surroundings. The state room was lavishly decorated, and filled to its limit with government officials, Secret Service, even socialites with no clear reason to be there. She took a seat at a table next to her date, smiled and accepted another glass of champagne, and waited for opportunity to arise.

it came when a woman in a maid's uniform walked past Selina's table. Selina slipped the woman a tiny vial of clear liquid, without anyone's notice, and just that easily, her job was done. Now it was time to sit back and watch the plan come to fruition.

* * *

The dinner went the way all state dinners did - a bit dully, full of forced politeness, and slowly. The two Presidents sat next to one another as they dined along with their spouses, and Bruce scanned the crowd meticulously.

He knew he was looking for a female assassin, one from a group of primarily female international killers who specialized in targets of the misogynistic variety. Sex traffickers, criminals who evaded the law, all the way up to government leaders who made hobbies of genocide and militarized rape. He might have admired them if they didn't brutally murder their targets.

He'd gone over the guest list and had his list of suspects. They ranged from improbable to barely likely, but the intel on the hit was solid.

He was standing near a wall, overlooking the room, flanked by Secret Service agents who cared not for the CIA'a involvement tonight. T's voice entered his ear through his comm unit. "Senator Jameson's date wasn't on the list. Tall female, long brown hair, black dress, brown eyes, red lipstick."

Bruce's eyes wandered to the correct table. He saw the back of the woman's head and little else. Music began to fill the room, and the two heads of state rose to dance with their wives. Bruce squared his shoulders and waited.

After the first dance was over, the rest of the room was free to dance as they pleased. Bruce watched as the Senator offered his hand to his date and led her away from the table.

T's voice rang out in his ear again. "Everyone else checks out. This is it."

"Copy," Bruce muttered, leaving his place at the wall and walking towards the crowd of dancing couples. The woman's back remained the only part of her visible to him, and he didn't take his eyes off of her as he quickly made his way to her.

He stopped when he approached her, smiling to Senator Jameson as he asked, "Mind if I cut in?"

At those words, the woman ceased dancing and turned. Bruce and Selina's eyes met, and their expressions became ones of pure shock.

* * *

Senator Jameson muttered something about going off to get a drink, though he was already drunk, leaving the two former lovers standing face to face and not saying a word.

Finally, Bruce took her hand in his and placed his other around her waist. He pulled her close and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same to you," Bruce said, dancing with her slowly. "What brings you here?"

"A date," she replied flatly. "How about you?"

"My firm is working with the Secret Service for this event," he lied.

"Is it now?" she replied. "Since when is the Secret Service not enough to protect one President and one dictator?"

"Since now, apparently," he said. "Since when are you dating other men?"

"Since I became single again."

Bruce raised a brow. "So naturally you go for the balding Senator who can't keep his pants zipped."

Selina shrugged. "Better than a security consultant with a full head of hair who forgot _how_ to unzip his pants at all."

"Ouch," he replied, paying no mind to the eyes on them as he danced her along the floor. "Not buying it, though."

"Really? And why's that?" she asked.

Rather than reply, he backed her up against a wall. She hit it with a thud and grimaced by just a fraction, then widened her eyes as his hand slipped underneath her dress's silk skirt through the slit and ran up her thigh.

"Because you have this strapped to your leg," he said, disarming her of her gun. "How did you get it in here?"

"I have my ways," she replied defiantly as he pocketed her gun. "Anyway, what's wrong with a girl having a little bit of protection?"

"In the White House?"

"Maybe _especially_ in the White House," she replied. "There's a psychotic mass murderer dancing with our First Lady right now."

Then he grabbed her hand and spun her out to the floor again. "And that bothers you."

"Shouldn't it?" she retorted, letting him lead her.

"Right now I'm wondering exactly how much it bothers you."

"More than it bothers you, obviously," Selina replied. He spun her out from him, then spun her back in, her back to his chest.

He brought his lips to her ear, his voice a husk of a whisper as he said, "You've been lying to me, Selina."

She turned her head towards his, letting her lips just graze his as she replied, "No more than you've been lying to me, Bruce."

She then forced herself out of his grasp, turning to face him, though his hand remained clamped on hers. He stared hard at her as he said, "I can't let you leave. And I won't let you do what you came to do."

She smirked then, and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. A shiver tore down his spine at her touch, but the flash of heat turned to ice when her lips left his and he opened his eyes to find her still smirking. "Too late."

Across the room, the sound of coughing and sputtering took the attention of everyone present. The President of Zimbabwe was choking on nothing, it seemed, and turning blue as he stumbled to his knees.

A rush of attention swelled around the scene as Bruce turned to Selina. "How -"

She grabbed her gun from the waistband of his pants and whacked him across the face with it, then disappeared before his eyes into the chaos. Once he regained his bearings he cursed and heard T yelling in his ear as he started chasing after Selina.

"T!" Bruce exclaimed, "Let me do this myself! I'll bring her in, don't send anyone else after her!"

"It's too late for that, Smith, and you know it," T replied. "The whole Secret Service and the bastard's own security is already after her."

"Dammit, T, that's my wife!" Bruce growled, tearing through the building.

"Yeah, well, now she's an internationally wanted assassin, so I've got bad news for you."

Bruce reached the exit he'd been running to and paused, staring out into the night with wide eyes.

"Smith?"

Bruce gritted his teeth. "I'm going dark."

"Smith, no. Listen to me -"

He plucked out his earpiece and tossed it away, then started running.

* * *

Selina was speeding down the road in her getaway vehicle, a dark, nondescript sedan, when her phone rang and roused her from her panicked and terrified thoughts.

"Yeah."

"Jane," a low female voice replied, "Naomi checked in. She said you've been compromised."

"It's nothing," Selina replied, her gut clenching in anxiety. Of course Naomi, a fellow assassin who had been the woman in the maid's uniform who executed the president's poisoning, would have been watching Bruce accost Selina and recognize him, then proceed to "tattle". "It's not an issue."

"Agent John Smith of the CIA knows who you are," the voice replied, and Selina closed her eyes briefly at the word _CIA_. "You have 48 hours to take care of this, Jane."

Selina said nothing. Her grip on the steering wheel had turned white and painful.

"Do you understand?"

"I understand," she said through gritted teeth before hanging up.

Instantly, her phone rang again. She shoved it to her ear and spat, "What?"

"Selina," Bruce's voice growled.

"Hey, baby," she replied sarcastically. "Sorry about the face."

"Selina, listen to me. There's an army coming after you."

"Led by you, no doubt," she replied. "When were you going to tell me that you work for the CIA?"

"Whenever you decided to tell me that you've become a professional assassin."

"Well," she said with mock humor, "I guess we all do what we gotta do when we get bored."

"I can get you out of this," he said softly. "I'm right behind you."

She glanced up into her rearview mirror and saw a single pair of headlights behind her. "Where's the rest of the cavalry?"

"Not far behind."

"You can't get me out of this," Selina said.

"Yes I can," he replied. "We can go away together and figure this out."

Selina laughed. "Really. You think it's that easy."

"No," he said. "This is anything but easy. But it's your only choice, besides spending the rest of your life in prison."

She had no idea what her next move was. Like before, when Bane had arrived in Gotham, it was turn Bruce over or be killed. Now it was kill or be killed once more. The only difference now was, despite all they'd been through and all of the lies and pain, she loved him. Loved him so much that it killed her.

"Selina?"

She swallowed and said, "My safe house is twenty miles from here. 700 Platte avenue. I'll meet you there."

"All right."

She hung up, and then he zoomed ahead of her. Their eyes met as he passed her, and she tried to cling to every reason she had to hate him and not care about him any longer. The lies, the anger, the way he'd promised a few years ago to be honest with her always and put her first, then ended up doing the complete opposite. The nights she'd stayed up alone as he slept, wondering what the hell had happened to them. How much she'd opened up to him and left herself more vulnerable than she'd ever been in her life, only to have him make a fool out of her.

She'd done all of the same things to him, as well. So why should she care? All her life, it had only been her. Even when he came along, it was still really only her, because apparently he'd been lying almost the whole time. The only person she needed to look out for was herself.

She clung to this as the sirens reached her ears. She turned the wheel and led them on a merry chase.

* * *

After ditching every last cop and secret service agent, and leaving a rather enormous and impressive trail of destruction in her wake, Selina's phone rang again.

"Naomi, you bitch," she growled as she answered the phone.

"Don't give me that, Jane," the woman replied. "I saw what happened between you and your husband. Did you seriously expect me not to tell?"

"Yes, actually," Selina replied. "You know what I have to do now."

"That's life," Naomi said, matter-of-factly. "That's the life you chose."

"Spare me," Selina spat. "By the way, care to explain how apparently everybody else in our organization but me knew he was CIA?"

"It was a recently discovered fact, so calm down," Naomi said. "And by recently I mean tonight. Need help taking care of him?"

"No," Selina replied. "I've got it covered."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Good. Shouldn't be too hard. You guys haven't had sex in what, a year?"

Selina gritted her teeth and hung up, then tossed her phone out of the window.

* * *

Bruce was drifting through Selina's safe house when he heard a car pull up in the driveway. The house was in the middle of a suburban neighborhood, identical to all the others on its block, and underneath the floorboards he stood on were a huge cache of weapons. He knew they were there without having to look, and during his time there alone, he'd found the other hiding places scattered throughout the house as well.

He walked to the front of the house and peeked out the window, and saw that her car was empty. He looked up and down the manicured driveway, and saw her nowhere. When he turned to look towards the kitchen, he found himself face with the woman he loved.

"I didn't hear you come in."

"That was the idea," she said, sauntering towards him.

They stood in silence for a moment, a thousand secrets and questions filling the space between them as they wondered what to say.

"So," Selina finally said, "what's your great plan?"

"We can disappear," he said softly. "Start over again somewhere no one will ever find us."

Selina smiled and said, "That's a... very romantic idea. You say it like we aren't a separated, dysfunctional, fucked up couple of people who have no business being together."

"We both know why we're here," Bruce said, stepping closer to her. "We aren't normal people. We can't live normal lives. That's why we became what we are."

"And you think that can change?"

He shook his head. "No. But we can deal with it together."

"That's where you're wrong," she replied. "We aren't getting out of this together. I have exactly two options."

"And what are those?"

She took a deep breath and said, "I have 48 hours to kill you. If I don't kill you, they'll hunt me down and kill me. If I can't kill you, then we have to walk out of here and go in two opposite directions. Because the only way I'll have a chance of surviving is if I'm as far away from you as possible. And even then it's still a longshot."

"Selina -"

She pulled out her gun and cocked it, then aimed it at his chest. His stance and posture didn't change, clearly not afraid of her in the least.

"You're not gonna shoot me," he said calmly. "We both know that."

"Speak for yourself," she replied.

"Come on," he half-scoffed.

"I've screwed you over before to save my own skin," she pointed out. "Why wouldn't I do it again?"

"Because you didn't love me then."

"Maybe I never did," she said.

He paused and then began quietly, "If there's one thing I'm sure of, despite all of this - it's that I love you, and you love me. Don't..." he stepped forward by an inch, "don't you remember what we were?"

"I remember lies," she shrugged. "I remember watching us slowly become strangers. I remember throwing myself at you every night and feeling like shit when you wouldn't touch me."

He looked down, shame coloring his eyes as he muttered, "I couldn't... _didn't_ know how to make love to you when I spent every day lying to you. I'm sorry."

She rolled her eyes. "And now you think we can just run off and everything be peachy, after all of this? Do you have any idea how many people I've killed in the last two years? They were all monsters and murderers and rapists but you don't care about that - I'm everything you stand against."

"I don't care," Bruce replied.

"Bullshit."

"I don't," he repeated. "And I'm not going anywhere without you."

He stepped forward then, the muzzle of the gun grazing his chest. She jerked the gun back and pointed it at his head. He reached out to disarm her, grabbed her wrist, and she resisted. In the mild scuffle, her finger pressed down on the trigger, and a bullet hit the floor and flew right through the wood.

Their eyes met, and Bruce's were wide in shock - he thought she'd hit the trigger on purpose. She seized the opportunity and yanked the gun away from him, then threw a punch.

At this point, her hope was to knock him out and flee, but she knew it would be a struggle. Her punch connected with his jaw but he didn't fight back. She pushed his chest and yelled, "Fight back!"

"No," he shook his head.

She swung the gun at him and he ducked, then sprang up and tried to grab the gun away from her. She kneed him in the groin and he staggered off in pain. She stared at him for a moment before running off, intent on fleeing while he was down.

But he caught her just as she made her way through the kitchen and to the back door, tackling her to the floor and kicking off the start of the real dance.

She got up and got away each time he'd catch her, throwing kicks and punches that he ducked and swerved to avoid. She grabbed glasses from the cabinets and smashed them over his head, and he kept trying to tackle her and take away the gun that she refused to shoot. She swung pots and pans at his head and he grabbed them and threw them away, getting angrier the longer it went on, pinning her to the refrigerator at one point and growling, "Enough."

"Get off me," she seethed, connecting her knee to his groin again, then landing a kick to his stomach, sending him skidding down across the kitchen floor.

She was trying to flee the kitchen again when a knife flew an inch past her nose and landed on the wall of the doorway she was standing in. She suddenly flashed back to the first time she'd ever encountered Bruce Wayne, in the east wing of Wayne Manor, when an arrow had grazed her nose by mere centimeters before striking its target.

She looked over to find Bruce back on his feet, eyes blazing, and a chill of fear ran through her. What had she started?

She raised her gun and aimed it at his knee. "Stay away or I'll make you an even bigger cripple. Let me go."

He shook his head. "That's not gonna happen."

They stood there, Bruce in a now-battered tux and Selina in her black silk dress and heels, their chests heaving with heavy breaths.

Suddenly she fired the gun, just over his head, and then she was gone in his ensuing moment of shock-induced stupor.

"Come on, Selina," he called, stepping out of the kitchen slowly, cautiously. "Enough is enough."

More shots rang out, and a glass vase behind him shattered upon impact. She was aiming her bullets the same way he'd aimed the knife, missing fractionally on purpose. He stepped back a few inches and grabbed the knife out of the wall.

From her perch at the top of an adjacent staircase, the same knife she'd narrowly avoided a few moments ago came flying at her once again, landing half an inch above her head and embedding in the wall.

"Ready to fight back?" she called out, replacing the clip in her gun, creeping downstairs when he didn't answer.

When she reached the bottom step, his arm wrapped around her neck and pulled her against him while the other wrestled to get the gun out of her hand. She elbowed him in the face, hitting his nose hard, and a new scuffle began.

They ended up away from the stairs and down a hallway, outside of the master bedroom door, face to face, at a standstill, Selina's gun pointed squarely at his heart.

Her dress was torn down the side and his face was bloody, her makeup smeared down her face, and his hair full of glass shards. He was done. He'd had enough. She needed to make her choice, here and now.

"Do it," he said.

"No, no, come _on_!" she snarled. "Fight back!"

"I'm done fighting," he said. "If you're gonna do it, do it now. Look me in the eye and do it."

He saw her big brown eyes swimming with unshed tears. Her grip on the gun was trembling, just barely, and he saw in her eyes the truth that he already knew.

He knocked the gun out of her hand and had her up against the wall in one smooth, swift movement. He claimed her lips in a hard, unforgiving kiss as her hands grabbed on to his hair in a fierce grip, pulling him even closer as he devoured her mouth. She let out a whimper of moan against his lips, her body aching against his own, everything they'd lost and been such strangers without returning stronger than ever before in that moment.

He lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and she half- cried, "Oh, _God_."

He kissed down her neck, grazing her skin with his teeth, savoring the taste of her sweet flesh on his tongue as she moaned again.

She ground her hips into his, instantly met with the evidence of his own arousal, and then he strengthened his grip on her hips and carried her into the next room, kissing her hard the whole way.

He threw her down on the bed that appeared to have never been touched prior to this moment and quickly ripped the dress off of her body. She looked into his wild, darkened hazel eyes and saw the untamed, unbridled hunger there that she hadn't seen in so long - the way his eyes raked over her body, drank her in, made love to her without so much as a single touch. She took his face into her hands and pulled him down to her, crashing her lips against his, her hands working to remove the tattered remains of his tux.

There was nothing in the world but each other, no agencies or foes or anything that could keep them apart, nothing that could stop them from being together at last with no secrets and no lies between them any longer.

When it was bare skin against bare skin, Selina found herself on top, running her hands over Bruce's chest as she nipped at his neck, noticing a few new scars alongside the ones she'd memorized long ago.

She traced one that lay just over his heart, and he said in a gruff whisper, "Venezuela."

She looked up at him curiously, and he elaborated, "That time I said I went to New York for a conference."

She remembered that week, and looked back down at the scar before saying, "It's going to take me a long time to forgive you."

She followed these words with the tip of her tongue tracing the scar, however, and then he grabbed a handful of her hair and flipped her on her back underneath him. He held her hands down on the mattress with his intertwined with them, working his way down her body with his mouth, looking up at her when he noticed a round, dark little scar on her hip, just a touch away from her center.

"Cuba," she said with a smirk.

One of his hands trailed down to where she wanted contact the most, lazily stroking her with a single fingertip as he murmured, "I don't like how close it is."

She bit her lip, closing her eyes at the contact before croaking out, "He was a sex and drug trafficker. I posed as a stripper to get near him. Burned me with a cigar while I was snapping his neck."

He looked up at her, appalled and horrified and bizarrely turned on all at once, wondering how in the hell he could find the image of Selina snapping someone's neck to be so damn sexy when he abhorred murder. But that was Selina, everything wrong that somehow ended up being right and damn near perfect for him.

He kept moving his fingertips in lazy circles as he kissed the little scar tenderly, hating himself for being so distant and inattentive for so long that he now had to relearn her body. The sound of a soft moan from her lips brought him out of his thoughts and back to her.

He didn't stop the motion of his fingers as he moved up her body, kissing her lips and then staring into her eyes as he asked softly, "Has there been anyone else while we've been apart?"

She shook her head. "Nobody. You?"

He shook his head, then withdrew his hand from between her legs and grasped one, looping it over his waist. "Definitely not."

She groaned and clutched him closer to her as he pushed inside of her, a tighter fit than she remembered after months of abstinence, but it wasn't painful. It was the opposite of pain.

Her nails scratched at the back of his neck near the ends of his hair as he started to move within her, indecipherable noises escaping his throat as she brought her lips to his ear and decided to drive him a little more crazy. "I thought about you every night we were apart... lay in my bed and think about you, touch myself, wishing it was you..."

He made a strangled sound as he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes dazed enough to look like he was high on something as he kissed her deeply. Then he broke away, gulped in a breath of air and looked into her eyes as he kept moving, telling her, "I have the wrists of a sixteen year old boy thanks to the things you do to me in my head."

She laughed and half-moaned, half-whined, "God, we're idiots."

"Mmm," he muttered, grunting his agreement as she reached behind her head and grasped on to the headboard and used it for leverage to shift her weight a bit under him. He pushed her up the bed by a few inches and continued his efforts, hitting her harder and better, rewarded for his efforts with her breathy moans matching movements.

He grabbed her hands from the headboard and gathered her wrists into one of his hands, pinning them above her head, letting out a growl as he sunk his teeth into her shoulder.

The slight sting mingled with the pleasure coursing through her body and she moaned, arching against him, moaning louder when he dipped his head down and swirled his tongue along a taut nipple.

The combined efforts brought her climax early, and he watched as her eyes closed and jaw hung lax under the wave of pleasure. She clenched down hard and tight around him, making every muscle in his body twitch and throb with the anticipation of his own end approaching.

But Selina had her own plans for him, and managed to recover enough to roll him to his back and take the lead. She rode him fast and hard, keeping up the pace that he had created, giving him a show on top of the sensations, until he pulled her down by her hair to kiss him.

She rolled her hips just right, aiming to satisfy him and not to tease or prolong. They'd waited long enough, she decided, and sighed in satisfaction when felt his warmth within her and felt his fingertips dig into her hips hard under the pressure.

She lay on top of him as he came down from his high, still panting herself, still nowhere near coherency. He held her close and remained inside of her, unwilling to let go after having gone so long without the touch of her body against his.

"And here I thought," she murmured against his skin, "that you'd be disgusted with me once you found out the truth."

His fingers were running slowly through her hair as he chuckled lightly, "I'm a little shocked. Going from thief to master assassin is a big jump."

"I haven't killed for the money," she said. "Everyone I've killed were monsters."

"And did that fulfill you?"

She paused before shaking her head. "No. Did being a spy fulfill you?"

"It was nice to do something again," he said. "Something I could use my skills for, but... no."

She sighed and rolled off of him. He turned to face her as she propped herself up on her elbow and looked at him seriously. "You're harboring a fugitive. And I'm supposed to kill you within the next two days or be killed myself."

"Yeah," he said, as if they were discussing the weather, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"You're going to be a wanted man here for the rest of your life," she said. "And I'm going to be hunted by more than one government while also being hunted by the organization I'm about to betray."

"We're good at disappearing," Bruce said.

"I don't know if we're as good as it's gonna take."

"I guess we'll find out."

Selina narrowed her eyes just slightly as she brought her hand to his cheek. "After everything I did, and everything you did, and how we fell apart... you're still ready to just turn around and fall off the grid with me. Forever."

"The grid's overrated," he shrugged. "I think we deserve a fresh start, don't you?"

"You really think this can last?"

He paused and took her hand in his, looking down at it as his thumb stroked down her fingers. "I know it can."

"No more lies," she said simply.

He nodded. "No more secrets."

"How long do you think we have before they close in?"

Bruce glanced at a clock on the wall across the room, and said, "We might have about twenty minutes before the whole army's here."

"Well then," she said, bounding out of the bed, giving him an exquisite view, "better get going, Mr. Smith."

He followed her out of bed, watching her saunter to a dresser and open a drawer, then throw him an outfit. He smirked a little, knowing that she'd kept clothes in his size at her safe house. "You know, I've never really liked the name John Smith."

He pulled on his clothes as she slipped into a pair of dark fitted jeans, turning towards him as she held a black tank in her hands. "Personally, I've never felt much like a Jane."

She pulled the tank over her head, and Bruce missed the view already. "We could go back to our real names. Erase our lives here. Start over without aliases."

She considered this as she opened another drawer and pulled out a new gun. "Well, Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne aren't nearly as screwed as John and Jane Smith are. Who would have thought that we'd be safer with our real names."

"I've learned to expect the unexpected," he said, watching her arm herself with an array of weapons.

"Yeah?" she grinned, eyeing him in slight amusement. "So what's next? Where do we go to disappear?"

"Have you ever been to Rio during the summer?"

She grinned and said, "I've never been to Rio during any season."

Selina then walked out of the room and he followed her, and together they walked through the trail of broken glass, splintered wood and other bits of destruction they'd left in their wake. "Rio it is."

When they stepped outside the front door, they found themselves face to face with a gaggle of concerned and annoyed neighbors standing on the lawn.

They stared at the neighbors blankly. It was another moment before one of the residents spoke, a tall man in pajamas and a flannel robe. "We heard... noises. Sounded like gunshots."

Selina smirked and grabbed Bruce's hand. "Sorry about that."

"Did you two just move in?" an older lady asked in bewilderment.

"It's a rental," Selina shrugged, leading Bruce past the small crowd to their car.

"I really think we heard gunshots," the first man said as Bruce and Selina opened the doors to her car.

"We like it rough," Selina grinned as she slipped into the driver's seat. "Sorry again."

The neighbors' eyes all collectively widened at Selina's words, and Bruce chuckled as they closed the car doors and Selina started the engine. "Nice one."

"Thanks," she grinned before backing up and out of the driveway.

Once on the road, she gunned the engine and headed north. "Sure about this, Bruce?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he remarked.

"I don't do anything I'm not sure of," she replied.

"Neither do I."

She merged onto the highway that would take them closer to safety, and then she said, "Time for yet another 'retirement', I guess."

Bruce grinned. "This time," he sighed, as they disappeared into a sea of traffic and began a new journey, "I think we should probably actually stay retired."


End file.
